


Jamie Wood and the Swallow of Darkness

by madcapdragonshenanigans



Series: Children of Hope [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, So I'm writing it, because I want to know what went on at hogwarts, even if they can be jerks to, feat. jerks are from all houses, hufflepuffs are wonderful, it takes place in the 19 year interlude, minerva mcgonagall is PERFECT and FLAWLESS, okay she's a real person but she is the best and tries her hardest and is fair to a fault, so this is a story mostly focusing on original characters, the main student baddie isn't a slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madcapdragonshenanigans/pseuds/madcapdragonshenanigans
Summary: Jamie Wood has lived her whole life with her father in Stirling Scotland, where the strangest thing she'd encountered was the decor in her favorite cafe.  Friendless at school, her summer holidays are even lonelier with her father at work all day.  Her life is seemingly normal - until she receives a letter from a school called Hogwarts.Still coming to terms with her mother's death, and now the revelation that she was a witch, Jamie begins her first year with trepidation, as well as enthusiasm. As well she should, because not only does Hogwarts grant her deepest wishes, it also brings her deepest fears to light.And there's one lesson that cannot be taught in the classroom: In the fight against hatred and evil, magic is not the only weapon.(also posted on Wattpad)





	1. The Sideways Café

Spittal Street was an odd name for a road, but Jamie guessed that it took all sorts to name things. Once, on holiday with her dad, she’d seen a road named Goodnough. Sometimes she wondered what went through people’s mind when naming things.

For example, her favorite place to eat – The Sideways Café. It wasn’t sideways, but someone had decided to name it so. Its door did sit diagonally to the road, which, she figured, might have been the reason. _‘Or they just thought it sounded nice,’_ she thought tossing a half pound coin in the air and tripping over herself as she (barely) caught it in her fingertips. No one else was on Spittal Street, so her near miss wasn’t observed by anyone she knew. Not that she knew that many people.

She looked ahead again and locked eyes with a barn owl perched on the Sideways Café sign.

“You won’t tell anyone, yeah?” Jamie asked the bird.

It hooted softly.

Jamie hooted back, poorly; she couldn’t tell if the owl looked amused or offended. Possibly both.

“Thanks,” she said.

It wasn’t until Jamie was inside the café and sitting at the corner table she almost always occupied that it occurred to her that owls don’t go out in daylight. At least, that was what her year two teacher had told her when she’d raised her hand to ask if they’d ever asked an owl about it’s sleeping patterns, “just to make sure.”

That had been a fun detention.

“’Ello Jamie, usual?” Came a raspy Glasgow accent from Jamie’s right.

“Morning Mrs. Hambledon,” Jamie said, turning her attention from the window where she could make out the barn owl cleaning its wing methodically. “And yes, please.”

Mrs. Hambledon was the owner of the Sideways Café. She had long frizzy hair that was greying and untamed, and she always wore polka-dot rain boots that poked out from under her long skirts – which today was striped purple and green. She’d look completely out of place if she set foot in Jamie’s school, but here in the café, it was Jamie who felt out of place. Each table of differently shaped, and no two chairs were the same age, color, or style. Books, plants, and old radios shared shelves, and the walls were decorated with what Jamie could only presume every corny kitchen pun in existence. Most of them had to do with cauldrons and cooking magic, which made sense for a café, but it was a bit much for such a small space. The one time Jamie had asked Mrs. Hambledon about it she’d said, “It just makes me laugh, the things muggles think up.”

Jamie had no idea what that meant, and still hadn’t worked up the courage to ask what a muggle was. Her current theory was that Mrs. Hambledon’s family was originally from somewhere that referred to the Scottish and English as muggles.

While Mrs. Hambledon was in the kitchen that was only mostly hidden from where Jamie was sitting, Jamie pulled off some dead leave from one of the plants in the windowsill. It was a very bushy plant, and Jamie had to stick her fingers in deep to get at all the dead bits.

“Ouch!”

Jamie pulled her hand back sharply, blood dripping onto the round table from the cut on her finger. She stuck her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding.

When Mrs. Hambledon returned, Jamie had her left pointer finger wrapped in a napkin (which was stripes of pink, brown, and green, that didn’t match; Jamie did not feel bad about adding blood to the color scheme).

“What happened?” Mrs. Hambledon asked, setting the cup of tea down in front of Jamie. The cup and saucer didn’t match.

“Plant.” Jamie nodded at it. “Didn’t realize it had sharp bits.”

Mrs. Hambledon pursed her lips. “Yes, that one always bites. Would you like me to…?” She gestured at Jamie’s hand.

“It’s fine, I’ve had way worse.” Jamie unwrapped the napkin, revealing the already closed cut. “See? All better.”

“Well, I’ll be back with your eggs in just a minute. In the mean time, try not to touch the plants without the proper gloves.”

While Mrs. Hambledon was gone, a trio of adults walked into the café. If it was at all possible, they were dressed more outlandishly than Mrs. Hambledon. They were talking about something to do with “Quaffles,” and “Rugby.”

“Really is a shame Williams was sacked-” said the tallest of the three, with an English accent.

He obviously had no idea what he was talking about.

“Williams was an absolute tosser,” Jamie said, unable to contain herself. “When my dad was my age, he was playing semi-pro, and he told me that Williams had no idea what he was doing. Hadden is far better, an’ I think he should be made coach of the national team.”

The three strangers looked at her in surprise.

“Does your dad play now?” asked the short, squat man with an Irish accent.

“No, he got injured during his last year in school and couldn’t play it anymore. He takes me to all the games anyhow.” Jamie liked to think her dad would be on the national team if it hadn’t been for his hip. When she went to secondary school this fall she was planning on trying out for their rugby team to carry on the Wood family tradition. She was an expert on it, so there was no question she’d make it.

“I agree,” Mrs. Hambledon said, carrying a plate full of bacon, eggs, and potato scones. “Hadden is by far the better coach.”

Jamie looked smugly at the trio.

“Here you are dear,” Mrs. Hambledon said, setting down the plate in front of Jamie.

Jamie ate while Mrs. Hambledon got the three newcomers settled.

Lots of strange people came and went at the Sideways Café during Jamie’s frequent (daily, during the summer) visits, not limited to but including a looming woman with a magenta top hat, a man who only came up to Jamie’s hip, a man who took up the entire right corner of the café, and, on one occasion, someone, based on the amount of hair on their body, Jamie wasn’t entirely sure was human.

Once the other customers had their food, Mrs. Hambledon bustled over to refill Jamie’s teapot. As she did, Jamie took a bite of her potato scone and looked out the window.

A screech owl swooped past.

“That’s the second owl today,” Jamie said, dropping her scone in surprise.

“It’s that time of year again. I suppose you’re just sucking the teakettle, ain’t ya?” Mrs. Hambledon set the teapot down on the table and took the seat opposite Jamie.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re just anxious for your letter to arrive.” Mrs. Hambledon waved a hand dismissively. “It’ll come, don’t worry. I can’t believe you’ve never heard that expression before…”

“No, I have, sorry, it’s just… What letter? I don’t get many letters, and I’m not expecting one.”

Mrs. Hambledon looked at her like she’d said she’d seen a three-headed goat. Her mouth flapped open, a slight sound coming out, then she closed her mouth again.

“Oh but I thought – oh my… oh dear…” Mrs. Hambledon began wringing her hands. “Well, at least you’ll take it well, and merlin knows McGonagall knows what to do more than the rest of us… they have protocols… oh dear…”

“Mrs. Hambledon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… nothing…”

Jamie didn’t know much about Mrs. Hambledon, but she now knew that she was a terrible liar. There was obviously something – she’d left the teapot on Jamie’s table when she went back to the kitchen, mumbling “nothing, nothing…” over and over again.

 

After her strange conversation with Mrs. Hambledon, Jamie felt slightly to the left for the rest of the morning. Aside from the occasional owl, it had been a normal, boring morning.

After stopping home to make herself a sandwich to take with her, Jamie headed up the back walk towards the cemetery. The Back Walk was a winding foot-road that ran along the ravine that bordered Old Town Stirling. Well, older Stirling.

Jamie liked to spend time at the cemetery in the summer. It was always still there, even with tourists gawping and taking pictures from outside. From her chosen hiding places, she could see everything and eat her lunch in peace.

That day, as she walked, she couldn’t help but notice the owls flying above her head. What had Mrs. Hambledon meant by, “that time of the year,”? Owls never came out in daylight, especially not every late July. _‘Or maybe I’ve just never noticed…’_

By the time she reached the cemetery, she was questioning every assumption she’d ever made about life.

The seldom-used gate was closed as usual as Jamie approached it, but when she tried it, it opened easily. If it had been locked, she could have easily hopped the fence, but it was the principle of the thing.

Soon enough, she was in her favorite spot in the whole cemetery. One of the oldest graves sat beside a rocky hill, and between the two was a natural alcove just Jamie’s size. The grave itself was a stone square toped with an angel who’d lost its head long before Jamie had been born. The name once written on the front had faded long ago too. Sandwich finished, Jamie lay in the grass, head beside the earth bound angel head. From here, in the mid-afternoon sun, the owls passing like crows so often did seemed ordinary.

“Do you remember annual owls?” Jamie asked the head.

It said nothing.

“Thought not, but you don’t have a very good view anyhow.”

 

Jamie didn’t remember falling asleep, but she was woken up by a gruff, angry voice yelling, “You! Kid!”

Immediately Jamie was as awake as if she’d had three pots of coffee in the span of an hour (the result of said incident was the reason the software company her father worked for no longer held “bring your child to work” days). A man who looked like official security was shining a flashlight on her in the early twilight. Jamie scrambled to her feet.

“You ain’t allowed in here kid!”

“The gate’s always unlocked,” Jamie said, backing away.

“No it ain’t! You’re trespassing!”

Jamie wanted to point out that in her elven years of life in Stirling, she’d not once seen a No Trespassing sign on the cemetery. Unfortunately, the security guard was advancing, and before she could get a head’s start, he had her by the collar and was dragging her out of her hiding spot.

“Let go of me!” Jamie shouted, digging her heels into the ground.

“I’m going to take you to the guardhouse, an’ call your parents.”

“No, please don’t call my dad-”

Jamie was cut off by the angered yell of the guard and the ripping of her own tee shirt. She stopped herself falling head (and glasses) first onto the ground by rolling and catching herself on the shoulder instead. Now on her back, she could see that the guard’s shirt had somehow found its way into the fist of the headless statue.

Not believing her luck, Jamie bolted. She didn’t stop running until she was halfway up Glebe Ave, which was over half a mile away. She stood, bent over and panting, on the sidewalk, hands on her knees and hair over her face.

“Dad,” she panted to herself.

Judging by the sunlight, it was getting late, and her dad would already be home from work. She walked the rest of the way, her breath coming out a little raspy from running before.

Number 13 Windsor Place was half of an old house, which now served as two separate ones. Number 13 had a once bright red door, the paint chipping around the brass handle, and leafy plant listed slightly in its pot beside the front bay window.

The door was unlocked, which meant her father was definitely home. Through the front door, directly to her left was the dining room, its circular table in the center and housing her father who was frowning at a report. Like his daughter, Mr. Wood wore glasses, but his were rectangular, not large and roundish, and they were currently pushed up into his prematurely receding hairline.  

“Evening Dad,” Jamie said carefully.

“You’re home late,” Mr. Wood said, looking up from his papers to smile wearily, but affectionately at his daughter.

“Fell asleep,” Jamie said, shrugging.

“While you’re in the door, could you bring the mail in?” Mr. Wood’s attention reluctantly slipped back onto the report. Jamie knew from the countless times he’d worn this expression before that it was one detailing the shortcomings of whatever big project he and his teammates were working on.

“You forgot to grab it again?”

“Always do.”

Jamie shook her head and quickly retrieved the mail from the little box outside. Back inside, she sorted through it as she sat down at the table. Bills, a post card, a magazine that neither of them would read, the Allanwater Herald, a letter from her dad’s sister who lived in America, and a letter addressed to Jamie.

She blinked. She turned the heavy parchment envelope over to see a purple wax seal bearing and H surrounded by four animals too small to make out clearly. She turned it over again and reread it.

 

Miss J. Wood

The Bedroom Left of the Stairs

Number 13 Windsor Place

Stirling

Scotland

 

“Hey, Dad, I got a letter.”

“Good for you…”

“Dad!”

“Right, sorry, what does it say?”

“Haven’t opened it yet.”

“Open it then.”

Jamie carefully unstuck the wax seal and pulled out an equally heavy piece of parchment paper and read it aloud.

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _Of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

 

Headmaster: Minerva McGonagall

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., War Hero, Registered Animagus, Chf. Witch)_

Dear Miss Wood,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Filius Flitwick

Filius Flitwick

_Deputy Headmaster_

 

NOTE FOR MUGGLEBORN STUDENTS:

A DESIGNATED WITCH OR WIZARD WILL ARRIVE WITHIN 24 HOURS TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS AND PROVIDE ASSISTANCE.

 

When Jamie finished reading aloud she read the letter over again silently.

“Dad, what’s Hogwarts?” She looked up, hoping to find him equally as confused, but Mr. Wood looked like he’d swallowed every single report he’d ever gotten.

“A name I knew I’d be hearing soon enough,” he said, the life draining out of his voice.

“Dad?” Jamie felt her sandwich float to the top of her stomach. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Mr. Wood closed his eyes, tears leaking out as he shook his head.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong with you. It’s just… Hogwarts is your mother’s old school.”

Jamie glanced to her left, towards the only family photo in the house that showed all three of them.

Her mother. Martha Wood. She had few memories of her mother – she’d only been five when she’d died, and her dad didn’t like talking about her death much; he much preferred telling Jamie about her life, how they’d met at a national rugby tournament, how her mother always stuck things behind her ear. Jamie mostly just remembered her mother’s voice, and a warm smile.

Mr. Wood adjusted his glasses back onto his nose.

“I have something I should have showed you a long time ago,” he said, standing up.

Jamie followed her father upstairs and into the landing-turned-library. From the top of one of the bookshelves, he pulled down a long, thin box. He opened it, pulled out what was inside, and showed it to Jamie.

She’d read enough fairytales to know a wand when she’d saw one.

“Jamie… your mother was a witch.”

 

 


	2. A Visitor

Jamie didn’t sleep well – her mind was too full. She’d spent most of the night at her bedroom window, turning her mothers wand over in her hands.

“Does this mean I’m a witch too?” she had asked her father.

“Your mother and I knew you were a witch by the time you were three.” Was his answer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how. I thought it would be better for someone qualified to do it.”

 

The clock on her bedside table read 6AM when a thunderous pounding woke her up. For a split second she thought it was coming from inside her head, but then she realized it was coming from the front door. Grabbing her glasses, but not bothering to change out of her pajamas, she raced downstairs and wrenched open the door (which looked like it might cave in from the knocking).

Before her stood a man larger than her doorway. His hair and beard were black and wild and took up most of his face, and he wore a jacket with many similarly colored patches. Mostly he was blurry.

Jamie put on her glasses, and the stranger’s dark, friendly eyes came into focus.

“’Ello, you mus’ be Jamie Wood,” the giant of a man said in a heavy accent. “Professor Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures Teacher, and Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”

“Won’t you come on in?” Jamie asked, gesturing to the table and wondering where she’d seen him before. It was a very vague memory, but still… she couldn’t shake it.

“Right, right…”

The giant, Hagrid, came in and gingerly settled on a chair. Jamie winced, but the woodwork held. Hagrid looked about, tapping his thumbs on the huge pink umbrella across his legs.

“Let me just – Dad!” Jamie called up the stairs.

A few moments later, preceded by uneven footsteps, Mr. Wood appeared – shaving cream smudged on his jaw.

“Oh, good morning,” he said, taking in Hagrid awkwardly sitting at their dining room table. “It’s… Hagrid, isn’t it? Martha used to talk about you.”

“Tha’s me, alright.”

“Do you, ah, remember her at all?” Mr. Wood asked.

“’Course I do,” Hagrid said, grinning through his whiskers. “Jamie looks right like her too – got ‘er freckles and everything.”

Jamie felt the rush of warmth that let her know that her ears had gone bright red. Her eyes went to the picture on the wall. Her mother had been striking with dark, almost black hair, and deep grey eyes. It was her dad that Jamie had gotten her brown hair and brown eyes from; not to mention the farsightedness.

Mr. Wood rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I’d – I wish I could stay, but I have to leave for work. Jamie, there’s food in the fridge.”

“I know, dad.”

“Hang on,” Hagrid said, standing up suddenly. This, was what caused the chair to break. “As yer official Hogwarts correspondent it is my duty to have the students parent or guardian to understand everything, an’ I need to arrange a date for ya to have supervised first visit to Diagon Alley. It’s my job ya see?”

“Mr. Hagrid, I – I have to go to work. I don’t have time, I wish I did.”

“Yer leaving your daughter here alone?” Hagrid sounded outraged.

“It’s fine,” Jamie said, putting herself between Hagrid and her father. “I’m always alone during the holidays.”

This did not satisfy Hagrid.

“You leave her here, everyday?”

“YOUR WORLD TOOK MY WIFE!” Mr. Wood shouted back.

Jamie and Hagrid both started.

“We’d agreed that I’d be the one to stay home, and she would carry on at your ministry, and then there was the war, and I had to take Jamie into hiding, and then she was dead! The last time I saw my wife she was lying on the floor of your school! Because of your world, I’m raising Jamie alone, and I have to provide alone. So yes, I leave my perfectly capable daughter home – a home that’s only a fifteen minute bus ride from where I work.”

For a moment, Jamie was certain Hagrid was going to hit her father, but instead he pulled him into a tight hug. Her father sobbed, and Jamie wiped her own tears from under her eyes. Grunting, frustrated at herself, she pulled off her glasses and wiped them on the corner of her pajama shirt.

“Look ‘ere,” said Hagrid, patting Mr. Wood on the back. Jamie thought she heard something pop, and possibly snap. “Why don’t I take Jamie to Diagon Alley for ya? She’ll have most of her questions there anyway.”

Mr. Wood snorted and patted Hagrid back. “Yeah… yeah… alright. You are Hogwarts’ official representative after all.”

“I can call you once we’re there,” Jamie added. She didn’t know what this Diagon Alley was, but it was a safe bet there’d be a phone box nearby.

Mr. Wood ruffled her hair.

He went upstairs again after that, and Jamie went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

“Would you like a cup?” Jamie asked, bring the pot out to the table in its tartan cozy.

“Oh, o’ course, thank ya very much.” Hagrid beamed.

Jamie noticed, on her way back in with the largest mug she and her dad owned, that the chair Hagrid had broken had mysteriously repaired itself.

“Jamie, I’m off,” Mr. Wood said, coming down the stairs, shaving cream now absent.

Jamie went to hug him like she always did, but he held out a hand – not to stop her (though she did), but to hand her a small golden key.

“Your mother’s vault. Wizard money does nothing in this world, and, what was the word, muggle? Muggle money does nothing in theirs.”

Jamie took it and hugged her father tightly. “I’ll see you later dad.”

“Be good. Don’t hex anyone the first time you use your wand.”

“No promises.”

“That’s my girl.”

Once Mr. Wood left, Jamie sat down at the table with a bowl a cereal and a cup of tea.

“I quite like your pajamas,” Hagrid said, breaking the silence that had fallen since the front door had shut behind Jamie’s father. “The little yellow bits are right nice.”

“Thanks. They’re ducks.” Jamie giggled.

Hagrid took a measured sip of his tea. He seemed to be calculating something at any rate.

“So, Jamie, got any questions?”

Jamie chewed her cornflakes and thought hard. She swallowed, then answered, “Lots.”

It was a full three seconds before she asked the first one.

“Are you still at war?”

Hagrid shook his head. “War ended seven years ago. Mind you, we’re all still dealing with it. Grievin’ isn’t something that stops, and you can’t rid of every evil thing at once. But there’s no fighting, no killing. Jus’ politics. Tha’s worse sometimes, mind you, but you survive it easier mostly.”

Jamie almost laughed. A warmth exuded from Hagrid, like a warm sweater, or a fireplace, and his words, coupled with that, settled the knot that had been tightening in her gut since the night before. She took a sip of her tea. She had so many questions, but most of them just made her feel silly.

“How does magic work?” Jamie asked, sipping her tea.

“Blimey! Askin’ the hard ones. I don’t rightly know how to answer that… best save it fer yer teachers.”

“You’re a teacher!”

“Yer right, but I won’t be teaching you until third year – don’t look so disappointed now, tha’s only two extra years, and you’ll need the know how from those to be prepared fer all the magical creatures you’ll be dealing with.”

This brightened Jamie’s momentarily dampened spirits.

“What’s Diagon Alley?” was her next question.

“Tha’s where we’ll be going today to buy yer school supplies.”

“It’s not too far, is it?”

“Just in London-”

“London? That’s more than five hours away!”

“Right, forgot about that.”

Hagrid scratched at his beard. He was mumbling something under his breath, of which Jamie only caught snippets... “technically not allowed... have to find some way... ain’t connected... muggles...”  

“Hagrid?” Jamie said when Hagrid’s mumbling lapses into silence. 

“The Sideways Cafe ain’t nearby, is it?” Hagrid asked.  

“It is actually, only about ten minutes, maybe less.”  

“Alright, we’ll be off as soon as you get dressed.”  

 

Jamie didn’t think she’d ever gotten dressed faster.  The idea that magic existed had settled fast, but the idea that she was a witch? It didn’t seem right. She should have known before now that she could do magic. 

A heavy weight settled low in her stomach, like a bad tomato, as she tied the laces of her trainers. Maybe there was a mistake. Hogwarts had made a mistake. Jamie wasn’t magic. She’d never done magic a day in her life. If she could do magic, how come every time she was pushed off the swing set when she was little she hadn’t turned Kasey Burnwile into a dog, or a stone... or a chair. 

When she returned downstairs, Hogwarts letter in her back pocket, her steps were slow and heavy. 

“Hagrid,” she began, watching his cheerful face sag at the sight of hers. “I think your school made a mistake.” 

To Jamie’s surprise, Hagrid started laughing. 

“Nonsense,” he said when he’d stopped.  “Never been a mistake yet, and I doubt there will be.”  

“No you don’t understand, if I was magic, shouldn’t I have known? Doesn’t everyone know?” 

“Maybe sometimes, most times not though. I would bet my hippogriff that yer a witch, and tha’ you’ve done plenty o’ magic on accident.”  

Jamie opened her mouth to object, but then she thought better of it.  Had she done magic on accident?  

The harder she thought about it, the more things started to make sense. How every time she got cut it seemed to heal instantaneously; how she’d gotten in detention at least half a dozen times because the blackboard had rude things written on it about her teacher in Jamie’s handwriting that she had not written and couldn’t have; how any door she’d tried to open wasn’t locked, even if it should have been; how, yesterday, the statue had grabbed ahold of the security guard.  

“You’re right,” Jamie admitted, and though her tone was reluctant, her heart felt like it would rocket through the ceiling. 

She was a witch. She was going to go to a new school, with people who didn’t know her as the weird kid who’s shoes were falling apart and who’s clothes weren’t new and didn’t fit right.  

Hagrid’s eyes twinkled as he looked down at her.  

“Yer gonna love it a’ Hogwarts.”

* * *

They were halfway to The Sideways Cafe when another question struck Jamie. 

“Hagrid, what are we even getting at Diagon Alley?” 

“Lots o’ things.  ‘Aven’t you looked at the list?” 

Jamie shook her head.  “What list?”

“It’s in yer letter.”  

Jamie pulled out the envelope, and, sure enough, aside from the letter there were two other pieces of paper.  One of them looked like a train ticket, the other one was a folded piece of paper.  She pulled it out and unfolded it. As they continued to walk, she read it aloud. 

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

 

Uniform

First-year students will require:

  1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
  2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
  3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
  4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)



Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags.

 

Course Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginner’s Guide to Transformation_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

 

Other Equiptment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

 

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOKSTICKS.

 

“And we’ll find all that in Diagon Alley? What kind of shop is it?” Jamie asked when she’d finished the list.

“It’s a street, well, several streets.  Only magic folk know where to find it - here we are!” 

Jamie looked up to see the sign for The Sideways Cafe.  

“How’d you know this place?” she asked.  

“It’s one of the most popular wizarding establishments in this city.”  

Of all of the things Jamie had learned in the last 24 hours, this was the most shocking and least surprising. 

“So that’s why Mrs. Hambledon kept asking about my letter yesterday.”  

“Most like.  You come ‘ere often?”

“Every week day.” 

The little bell on the door tinkled as the two of the walked in. 

“‘Ello Mrs. Hambledon,” Hagrid said. 

“Morning Hagrid!” Mrs. Hambledon waved absently. 

“Mind if we borrow your floo?” 

“I don’t need to use the loo,” Jamie said, confused. 

“No, no, the floo. The Floo Network,” Hagrid muttered. 

“Good to see you, Jamie,” Mrs. Hambledon said. “What you need to floo for?”

“Takin’ young Jamie here to Diagon Alley.” 

Mrs. Hambledon sized Hagrid up. 

“You’re not going to fit.”

“I can’t take Jamie side along, don’t have a license to.  I’ll be meeting ‘we there.”  

“Alright, follow me Jamie.” Mrs. Hambledon beckoned her to follow. 

“See you in a minute, Jamie,” Hagrid said.  

Jamie followed Mrs. Hambledon into the kitchen hidden behind the front counter.  There, past the stove and all the rest, was a huge hearth big enough for her to stand up in. 

Mrs. Hambledon picked up a jar from the mantlepiece and handed it, open, to Jamie. Inside was what looked like ash. 

“Now, what you have to do, is stand in there, take a handful of this, throw it down and say ‘The Leaky Cauldron’.”

Jamie nodded. She knew, intellectually, that she should be nervous and wary, but she couldn’t help but be excited. This was magic, it had to be. 

She ducked into the hearth, took a handful of the powder, and handed the jar back to Mrs. Hambledon, who nodded. 

“The Leaky Cauldron,” Jamie shouted as she threw the powder down. 

Jamie’s vision was enveloped by green flame. She felt like the world was spinning. Too quickly to take in detail, visions of rooms popped before her eyes.  Her stomach spun round and round, even faster than her surroundings.

Just before she couldn’t take it anymore, Jamie fell forward, collapsing onto hardwood floors.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, concerns, existential crisis?


	3. The Wand Choses the Witch

Pain shot through her wrists and she collapsed onto her side. From her position on the ground, she could see the fireplace she’d fallen out of, along with an empty desk against one wall, and moth-eaten, overstuffed chair facing the fireplace. When she rolled over, she saw the chair’s twin, and a door. Apart from her, the room was empty.

She pushed herself up and brushed shoot off her jeans. She patted her pocket to make sure her letter was still safely tucked away, then quickly crossed the room and left. Outside the room was a narrow hallway with many doors, and on one end there was a landing, with one stair leading up, and another down. That looked her best bet. Over the railing, she could see a dimly lit pub below her, filled with people in the oddest attire – purple cloaks, pointy hats covered in stars – mixing with people who wouldn’t have looked amiss at her dad’s work. But, even in the hands of the most modern looking people, she was sure she could spot a wand.

The door to the pub opened, and in walked Hagrid. Jamie grinned and hurried down the stairs to meet him.

“I see ya had no trouble,” Hagrid said, beaming when she finally reached him.

“I don’t want to ever do that again,” Jamie said. Her stomach was still debating whether or not it needed the cornflakes she’d eaten.

“Can you stomach it one more time? Jus’ ta get home?”

“I guess,” Jamie said, smiling at Hagrid’s apologetic expression.

“It that time again?” asked a voice from the bar.

Jamie looked to see a bald and toothless man grinning at them.

“Aye Tom, it is.” Hagrid clapped her on the back, and while her stomach settled, her back now felt like it would be bruised for a century or two. “No time to chat now though, lots to be doing.”

Hagrid led her through the pub, parting the crowd easily with his massive size. All Jamie had to do was keep close behind. Now that she was on ground level, she could see people more clearly. There were young wizards, and old wizards, families with children younger than Jamie (“Mummy, I wanna wand! I wanna! Wanna!”), and people Jamie wasn’t sure were human.

At the back of the pub was a door that led to a small alley that contained nothing but a dustbin. Hagrid pulled out his umbrella and started counting the bricks above the bin.

“Um, Hagrid, I don’t mean to be rude, but, why are we here?”

“Jus’ a mo’, I’m concentrating.”

Hagrid tapped several bricks in what seemed like a specific order, and the final one sunk into the wall. Jamie gasped, and in a moment, where the wall had been was an archway that towered above even Hagrid.

“Welcome, Jamie, to Diagon Alley.”

As they stepped through the archway, Jamie heard the bricks shift and quickly glanced back. The archway was gone. In front (and slightly to the left) of them was a shop with a cauldron-shaped sign, and cauldron’s stacked in front of it. Beside it was a shop with gorgeous robes of all colours, with tape measures flying around behind the windows. The sign in front of it declared it “Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions.”

“You’ll be getting your school robes and uniform there,” Hagrid said.

Jamie stared, mouth open. People passed them on either side, talking, muttering, yelling to friends. Passed the robes shop was a narrow building with hooting coming from inside, across the street Jamie could barely make out a shop with broomsticks in its windows over the crowd of kids around her age. Bookshops, a shop filled with the cries of creatures Jamie had never heard before. Shops boasting inks that changed color, sweetshops, an apothecary… and, dominating the middle of the street in front of them, a huge white pillared building with the word’s “Gringotts Bank” written in gold. It’s white stone walls towered over all the other shops.

“Tha’s our firs’ stop,” Hagrid said.

Jamie nodded mutely. As they walked up the stone steps, Jamie noticed a small figure in a scarlet and gold uniform beside the burnished brass double doors.

“That’s a goblin,” Hagrid whispered.

The goblin came up to Jamie’s chest, and had uncomfortably long fingers and feet. His eyes twinkled in a way that unsettled Jamie deeply, but she wasn’t sure why. The goblin bowed as they passed him and through the first set of doors. The second set of doors were silver with words engraved upon them.

 

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there_

“Is that a warning?” Jamie asked as they were bowed through the doors by a pair of goblins.

“Aye it is, yeh’d be mad to try and rob it.”

“Has anyone ever tried?”

Hagrid let out a bark of laughter that caught the attention of all the nearby goblins.

“’Bout seven years ago, an they managed it too.”

“So not so mad then.”

Hagrid continued to chuckle as they made their way over to one of the two long counters where maybe a hundred goblins sat on high stools. Some were writing in ledgers bigger than Jamie’s torso, others weighing gold and jewels, some peering through eyeglasses at things Jamie couldn’t see. There were many doors leading off the hall, and other goblins were escorting people in and out of them.

“G’morning,” Hagrid said to the goblin who peered down at them suspiciously. “We’re here to make a withdrawal from Miss Jamie Wood’s vault.”

“Key?”

Hagrid looked over at Jamie and nodded his head.

“Oh.” Jamie dug in her pocket and pulled out the key her father had given. She placed it on the counter.

The goblin held the key with two long boney fingers and inspected it. His nose wrinkled. “Seems in order. Kurnott!”

Kurnott was another goblin who led them through one of the many doors. Beyond the door was a narrow stone passageway lit with torches. Embedded in the steeply slopping floor was a rail track. At Kurnott’s whistle, a cart sped up the tracks to meet them. The three of them climbed in, Hagrid barely fitting.

The cart hurtled off, twisting between passageways, making breakneck turns. Right, then left, left again, right… Jamie closed her eyes against the biting wind. She held tightly to Hagrid’s jacket. The air whistled past her, and she felt the cart take a nosedive. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but the sound of thundering water cut her off.

After a few more heart-wrenching seconds, the cart screeched to a stop. Jamie opened her eyes and clambered out. Hagrid looked a little green and remained in the cart, mumbling about needing a moment.

“Key, please,” Kurnott said, holding out his hand.

Jamie handed it over. Kurnott unlocked the door.

Inside was more money than Jamie had ever seen. Small heaps of gold, silver, and bronze filled the small vault. Jamie just stood there, blinking.

“’Ere,” Hagrid said, handing her a bag.

Jamie filled the bag with handfuls of each type of coin, still taking in the revelation of her inheritance.

“The gold ones are Galleons,” Hagrid explained. “Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleons, and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s pretty simple.”

Jamie disagreed with that assessment.

The ride back up to Gringotts was much the same as the ride there. Jamie tried to keep her eyes open, but soon enough she had to snap them shut again.

Once they were out of Gringotts, Jamie didn’t know where to go first. She had a bag full of wizarding money, a list of school supplies, no sense of direction, and bursting sense of excitement.

“Let’s start with yer equpitment an’ books,” Hagrid said. He still looked a little pale.

At Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment, Jamie and Hagrid picked up her telescope and scales. Hagrid had to guide her away from astronomical watches, mirrors that showed what you should have for dinner, and crystal balls.

“But I want to ask it if my dad’s new project will work out!”

“Divination’s a tricky subject,” he warned.

At the apothecary, they got basic potions equipment and crystal phials. It smelled musty in there, and it bit like mildew, and other, unidentifiable stinks, but it was fascinating. Again, Hagrid had to stop her from purchasing unnecessary items (“It’s not a real unicorn horn, it’d be unethical tha’.”)

They picked up rolls of parchment, sturdy notebooks, and ink, and Jamie was particularly pleased with the falcon feather quill she found on a back shelf at half-price.

She spent far longer than she should have at Flourish & Blott’s, even after she’d picked up her schoolbooks. There was just so much she’d never heard of, and had never read. In the end, she managed to tear herself away, after making a promise to herself to buy extra books next time she was here.

“Do yeh want to bring an animal?” Hagrid asked, as Jamie artfully arranged her things inside her cauldron to make carrying them easier.

“I’ve always wanted a cat, but wouldn’t an owl be more useful?” Jamie had read a bit in _A History of Magic_ , and one section had been on the history of wizarding owls.

“There are school owls – tell yeh what, you go to Madam Malkin’s, I’ll get yeh yer animal.”

“You, you don’t have to, I can do it.”

“Don’t you worry yerself, yer a good kid.”

 

The inside of Madam Malkin’s was full of bright robes and fabrics, scarves, and hats and gloves. A squat witch with flowing mauve robes, popped out from around a corner.

“Hogwarts, dearie?”

Jamie nodded.

Madam Malkin ushered her into the back of the shop and had her stand on a three-legged stool. From out of her hair she pulled her wand, and many things began happening. Three robes lifted into the air, one of which tapped on Jamie’s shoulder until she let it put itself on her. A measuring tape unfurled itself leisurely, and began measuring Jamie’s arms, body length, and shoulders. Then, needles and thread appeared, and began to make alterations on all three sets of plain black robes. Madam Malkin herself was busy picking out three white button-up shirts, and dark grey skirts.

“Dear,” Madam Malkin said, turning around and holding a shirt up to Jamie to check the size, “Would you like pants as well, or are skirts fine.”

“Um, they’re fine.”

“Lovely. And what kind of sweaters? I’d recommend having one of each kind, but-”

“That’s fine!” Jamie said brightly.

She watched as Madam Malkin folded up the three identical shirts and skirts, followed by a pullover sweater, a cardigan, and a sweater-vest, all the same deep grey. On top of these she put a three black ties with the Hogwarts crest on them.

The bell tinkled.

“I’ll be right back dearie,” Madam Malkin said before disappearing.

Jamie heard her greet the new customer, and soon enough a boy with brown hair, a straight nose, and disapproving expression entered the fitting area. Simply out of politeness, Jamie waved at him when he was situated on a stool of his own. Madam Malkin left the room again, while more robes began to surround the boy.

“Hello,” Jamie said brightly. It probably wasn’t the boy’s fault he looked so ill tempered; he’d probably just had a bad day.

He narrowed his eyes. “Hi.”

“My name’s Jamie Wood, what’s yours?”

“Leon Walker.”

“Isn’t this all so exciting?”

“Exciting? Really? More like boring. I’ve already got my wand, and I can’t get a broom until next year. I can’t wait to go home, get away from all these mudbloods who’ve never even been here before. I can’t believe my mom took me here today – the end of July is always packed with those kinds.”

Jamie was silent. She didn’t know what a mudblood was, but they way he spat it made her blood boil.

“You understand don’t you?”

“I, uh-” Jamie began hesitantly, but Leon Walker kept talking.

“You think I can talk Madam Malkin into letting me get Ravenclaw colors already?”

“Um, maybe?”

“You’re all done dear,” Madam Malkin said, waving her wand to make the three altered robes fold themselves up and land neatly with the rest of Jamie’s things.

Jamie paid quickly, and took the neatly packed bundle and her cauldron of things. Hagrid was waiting outside the shop.

“Yeh look like you just saw a ghost,” Hagrid commented. “’Ere, meet yer new friend.” He held up a wicker carrier with a wire front.

Inside the carrier was a small black kitten. Jamie pressed her face against the wire, and cooed at the kitten.

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” Hagrid said. “Don’t normally go for cats, I’m allergic, but she reminded me o’ you.”

“I love her!” Jamie said, sticking a finger in to scratch the kitten’s chin.

“Yeh got yer robes?”

“Yeah. What’s Ravenclaw?”

“It’s one of the houses a’ Hogwarts,” Hagrid explained. “There’s four of em – Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Ravenclaws are generally very smart, love learning and creating. Always asking questions.”

“What about the others?” Jamie asked as they walked up the street, past Gringotts.

“Gryffindor was my house, an’ generally Gryffindors are among the bravest, daring like, but tha’ can be right dangerous. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins generally get a bad wrap, sayin’ Slytherins are all evil, and Hufflepuffs are a load of duffers. Slytherins are cunnin’ and ambitious, and Hufflepuffs are right hard workers and loyal as anything.”

The street they were on had narrowed after they’d taken a slight right.

“They all sound so great,” Jamie said quietly. “But I don’t think I belong in any of them.”

“Oh don’t you worry.” Hagrid patted her again. “Ah, ‘ere we are – Ollivanders.”

In front of them was a narrow, shabby building, but the words “Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.E.” had been recently repainted in gold paint. In the front window, a singular wand rested on a faded pillow.

“I’ll wait out ‘ere with your things,” Hagrid said.

“Can’t you come in with me?” Jamie asked. She didn’t want a repeat of the boy from Madam Malkin’s.

“Nah, there ain’t much room.”

With a deep breath, Jamie stepped inside Ollivanders. A bell tinkled distantly. Inside the dimly lit space, Jamie could see towers of slim boxes, and teetering shelves full of them. But other than her, it was seemingly empty. The air was still, and the dust hung suspended in the dim shafts of light. A slight sound caught Jamie’s attention. A frail man with pale, moon-like eyes appeared from around one of the shelves.

“Good afternoon.” The man’s voice was soft, and as frail as he looked.

“Hello,” Jamie said. Ollivander’s eyes were unsettling.

“You’re Martha Desmond’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Jamie nodded. “My name is Jamie Wood.”

“Your mother favored an acacia wand, 10 and ¼ inches, slightly flexible. Am I right in think your father… does not have a wand?”

Jamie nodded. “What do you mean favoured?”

“Well, the wand favored her. It’s the wand that choses the witch or wizard. Which is your wand arm?”

“Uh…” Jamie looked down at both of her arms. “I’m ambidextrous…”

Ollivander nodded and pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings. “Hold out your arms – yes that’s it.” He measured both of Jamie’s arms, shoulder to finger, finger to wrist, armpit to floor, round her head, the length of her neck. As he did so, he continued. “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Wood. Unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. No two wands are alike, and your magic will never work quite as well with another’s wand.”

Jamie waved away the tape measure, which was measuring the space of her open mouth. Ollivander was sorting through boxes, taking down some, and replacing others. The tape measure crumpled to the floor.

“Try this – Rowan, dragon heartstring, 10 and ½ inches, nice and swishy.”

He handed the wand to Jamie, then immediately snatched it back. He handed her another one.

“Willow, unicorn hair, brittle.”

This one Jamie managed to wave, and send out a pitiful spark from before he took it back. She heard a rattling sound from the back of the shop, and winced. Something must have fallen over. Jamie got about as far with, “Larch, phoenix feather,” and, “Holly, unicorn hair.” Ollivander looked almost cheerful now, and Jamie had to say that look suited him better.

“Hmmm… how about a Hazel? No, no. Don’t worry, we’ll find you your wand!”

The stack of tried wands began to resemble a poorly constructed tower. Jamie was beginning to get discouraged.

“Hawthorn, dragon heartstring, 12 and ¾ inches, somewhat bendy, give it a-” Ollivander ducked as the hawthorn wand ricocheted out of Jamie’s grip, causing several boxes to fall, and one to launch itself towards them.

Ollivander pulled out the last wand he’d pulled down. “Walnut, unicorn hair, 9 inches, flexible.”

This one didn’t even spark.

“What does this mean?” Jamie asked.

Ollivander practically beamed. “It means I have to get more boxes.”

“Should we clean these up?”

“It’s no matter.”

The stack fell over.

“I’m going to restack them,” Jamie said.

She stacked the boxes more neatly, while Ollivander went back to perusing the shelves. She debated whether or not she should out the box that hawthorn wand had knocked over in the pile, but decided against it. She brought it to Ollivander instead.

“Where do you want this one?” she asked.

He took it in his slim finger and opened. He hummed thoughtfully. “Chestnut, unicorn hair, 14 and ¾ inches, solid, give it a wave.” He handed her the long, red and orange toned wand.

It felt warm in her palm, but slightly off. She swapped it to her left hand. Almost immediately it glowed slightly, and sparks shot out the end. Her heart beat high up in her chest, as a grin spread wide across her face. Ollivander clapped his hands together.

“Oh marvelous! Quite marvelous! Wonderful!”

Jamie lowered her wand.

“I love magic,” she whispered.

“Well done. Hmm… yes… I wondered how persistent that one was going to be. It has always been quite curious, so I wasn’t sure…”

Jamie furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry, but, what do you mean? It only got knocked over.”

“Oh, no no, that wand was moving mostly on it’s own. It’s been known to happen – wands moving about to get a good look at whoever’s in my shop. It’s not unusual for a wand to present itself to be tried, and this one was quite bold. I look forward to hearing about your future exploits together.”

Mostly amused by this revelation, Jamie paid seven Galleons and rejoined Hagrid.

 

As Jamie and Hagrid were walking back through Diagon Alley, Jamie didn’t know what to do with her wand. She wanted to wave it about, to try and shoot off more sparks, but it felt like a reckless sort of idea. It would have been a better idea to put it in her cauldron with everything else, but she didn’t want to let it go just yet. She contented herself with taking in all the sights. A trio of witches were standing outside Wiseacre’s, casting what Jamie guessed was a star chart into thin air and arguing about it. A small child of indiscriminate gender was running away from their father, cackling with laughter, and sending sparks into the air with a wand that was most definitely not theirs. A loud pop and sizzle came from up the road, and Jamie looked up just into to see the firework explode over a gaudy orange and purple building with a young red-headed man’s face on the front. The head (and arm) lifted it’s maroon top hat, then replaced it. It winked at her.

“Hagrid, what’s that shop?”

“Tha’, Jamie, is Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Hagrid said proudly.

“Can we go in?”

“Only if yeh promise not to buy any skiving snack boxes – I’m required to tell yeh that.”

The inside of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was even louder and brighter than the outside. It was full of neon blues and greens, orange and red boxes, purple and pink candies. Children were yelling and laughing, parents were calling them to be quiet, and miniature fireworks went off harmlessly, but loudly. Writing on the shelves and wrappings all over the shop read, “Puking Pasties,” “Extendable Ears,” “Boxing Telescopes,” “Canary Creams,” and “Thor’s Thunder Cracker.” The more Jamie looked around, as well as up at the second floor, the more she felt like this was a certain kind of paradise. She wished whole-heartedly for everyone else to leave so she could take a look at everything without the need for accidentally elbowing people. She’d also like her eardrums back.

“’Ello George!” Hagrid waved at a tall red-haired young man in a purple pinstriped suit. Jamie noticed he only had one ear.

“Jamie, this is George Weasley,” Hagrid said, guiding Jamie through the crowd to stand in front of Mr. Weasley. “Where’s Ron at?”

“In the back. Who’s this Hagrid?”

“I’m Jamie Wood,” Jamie said, offering her hand.

George shook it. “Any relation to Oliver Wood?”

“No, I don’t think so. Who is he?”

“Keeper for Puddlemere United, and a right pain in the arse. He was Gryffindor Keeper and Team Captain when we were at school,” George said. “First year?”

Jamie nodded.

George pulled out his wand, and, out of thin air, produced a gold and purple piece of paper about the size of Jamie’s palm. The writing on it read “I Solemnly Swear I’m Up to No Good.”

“All first years are entitled to one free Weasley product,” George said. “And any written proof that you have made Filche’s life miserable get’s you twenty Galleons’ worth of our merchandise free, along with a special commemorative pin.”

Jamie thanked George enthusiastically and immediately turned her sights on the rest of the store. Now that she had one, she could spot the purple cards in the hands of other’s around the store. At first she started looking at things that might be useful, but pretty soon, the allure of the practical joke items was too great. The fireworks display was popular among the other eleven year olds, and Jamie caught wind of one girl saying to her little brother, “You don’t want to get the Bang Bang Boggart Banger, you’ll terrify the rest of your year. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It took Jamie a moment to realize the girl was addressing her. “What?”

“Bang Bang Boggart – too mean for first year, right?” The girl was tall, had short black hair, and warm hazel eyes. She was also nearly a head taller than Jamie.

“I – I wouldn’t know.”

Instead of looking annoyed, the girl smiled broadly. “You’re a first year too – this your first time in the wizarding world?”

Jamie nodded.

“I’m Max King, I’m a second year, and this is my brother William, he’s in your year.”

“Dragon Fire!” William said, his eyes shining like stars as he held up the package.

Jamie glanced quickly over the assembled fireworkery. “The Box ‘O’ Rockets looks the biggest.”

William’s eyes got even bigger. “You’re right!”

He quickly got it down, asked Jamie to repeat her name, and declared her his friend.

“Let me show you around the store,” Max said, while William wandered off to find a register.

Jamie followed Max around the store, listening as she listed off the various items and their effects, occasionally adding in a story of her own. Jamie noticed that she had a brass pin with “Mischief Manager” pinned to her jacket.

“I brought a bunch of Canary Creams last year, and I turned half of Gryffindor into birds! Professor Longbottom wasn’t pleased – he’s the Head of Gryffindor House.”

“Are you a Gryffindor?” Jamie asked.

Max nodded. “My oldest brother Demetrius is in Slytherin though, he’s a seventh year, and my other brother Roland is in Ravenclaw, fourth year and a bit of a tosser. You got any siblings?”

“Just me,” Jamie said.

“Well, give it one year at Hogwarts and you’ll have plenty of friends who might as well be.” Max ruffled Jamie’s hair. “And I’ll look after you.”

“You’re what? A year older?”

“And wiser,” Max said with a wink.

Jamie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair by Halloween – by then you’ll know enough to jinx anyone who tries to mess with you.”

Jamie walked around with Max until William returned, mother in tow, who said that they needed to be heading out.

“I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express!” William said, waving vigorously.

Max blew a kiss.

Jamie, now rather pink, picked up a Mystery Sweet Box (“ten bags of quality assured Weasley sweets”). When she handed in her card at the register, George pressed a box of Exploding Whizz Poppers on her with a shushing motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!


	4. The Journey to Hogwarts

For the first time in her life, Jamie felt like the summer holiday couldn’t go by fast enough. She passed the long hours reading her new books and playing with her new kitten, who she’d named her Artemisia, after the first female Minister of Magic (she’d learned that in her history of magic book). Mostly, she just called her Misia, because it was quicker. The weekend after her trip to Diagon Alley, her dad got her mother’s old trunk down from the attic.

September 1st couldn’t come fast enough.

On August 30th, Jamie packed all of her Hogwarts things (along with some non-school clothes, for weekends), and on the 31st she and her dad took the train to London.

The Hogwarts express wouldn’t leave until eleven o’clock, and the hotel was only a ten-minute walk from King’s Cross Station, but Jamie woke up at first light. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to wear her robes to the station, but she did put on the rest of her uniform. Well, tried. She put her shirt, skirt, and knee high socks on, laced up her black sneakers (which her dad had bought her to surprise her with after the Diagon Alley trip with Hagrid), and had the tie around her neck, before realizing she had no idea how to tie it. She futzed with it for a solid twenty minutes before giving up. She would have to wait for her dad to wake up.

When he did, she restrained herself until he too had a tie before asking for help.

He looked at her askance. “I never taught you?”

She shook her head.

“Well, here it is-” he walked her through the process, demonstrating with his own blue and red striped tie, while she attempted with her own black one.

It only took three goes before she could do it herself reasonably well.

“Dad?” she asked, undoing it a fourth time. “Could you do it for me? You know, make a good first impression?”

Mr. Wood didn’t object and merely bent down to do her tie one last time.

By 10:30 they had checked out of the hotel and were on their way to King’s Cross. Jamie was beginning to get nervous, fiddling restlessly with her wand in her skirt pocket. She hadn’t told her dad about the platform number.

When they reached King’s Cross, they put her trunk on a trolley, and her dad wheeled it in, while Jamie carried Misia’s carrier. They were about halfway into the station when her dad spoke.

“What was the platform number?”

She winced. “Nine and three quarters.”

Currently, they were standing at the brick column between platforms nine and ten.

“Erm. Well. I don’t see it. Were there instructions?”

“No… maybe I have to tap the bricks – that’s how Hagrid got into Diagon Alley.”

Jamie had just pulled out her wand when a hand on her elbow stopped her.

“That’s not how you do it,” said a girl just slightly shorter than her, with green eyes and two long black plaits.

The girl was also dressed in a Hogwarts uniform, minus the robe. Both parents stood just behind her, her mother wearing a gold and pale blue hijab, and her father a well pressed blazer – though his trousers didn’t match, and he was wearing rain boots.

“Watch me,” said the girl, pulling her own trunk in front of her.

Jamie stepped out of the way, and no sooner had she done so than did the girl run _through_ the brick wall. Jamie looked, gaping, first at the apparently solid wall, then at her dad and the girl’s parents.

“After you,” the girl’s mother said in a heavy French accent.

Jamie took the trolley from her dad, put Misia on top, took a deep breath and – eyes closed – ran at the wall. She half expected to crash it, to discover these last few months had been a dream, or a delusion, but none of that came true. Instead, she emerged onto another platform, a well-polished sign above her reading “Platform 9 & ¾.” A scarlet steam engine sat, waiting, on the tracks. Crowds of students and parents bustled about, talking and waving. Jamie rolled her trolley forward until she was standing side by side with the girl.

“Thank you,” Jamie said.

“My pleasure. I’m Ciel Damanis,” said Ciel, extending her hand for Jamie to shake.

Jamie took her hand. “Jamie Wood.”

As they shook, Ciel’s parents and Jamie’s dad walked through the barrier. Ciel’s parents quickly whisked her away to talk to a group of adults they obviously knew, while Jamie was left with her dad. Together, they got her trunk on the train with minimal accidents, her dad commenting in amazement on the train’s features. Jamie tuned him out. She was too awestruck to pay attention to mundane facts.

Once her trunk had been safely hoisted onto the overhead storage on an empty compartment, Jamie and her dad returned to the platform. This was the part she had been dreading.

“Well, I guess you’re off,” her dad said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking over Jamie’s head.

“Guess I am,” Jamie said, looking down at his feet.

After a moment she looked up and hugged her father tightly, and he hugged her back so forcefully he lifted her off her feet.

“I’ll send owls – Hagrid said the school has ones I can use.”

“Every week?”

“Every week, I promise.”

“I love you so much, my darling girl.”

“I love you too dad.”

When at last her dad put her down, they were both crying. The train’s whistle blew, warning the students still on the platform that they needed to get a move on.

“You best get on that train,” her dad said.

They hugged one last time, then Jamie hurried back into her compartment. When she re-entered, she saw the Ciel was there.

“Would it be alright if I sat here?” Ciel asked, when she saw Jamie.

“Sure,” Jamie replied.

They didn’t say much as they fiddled about with their stuff. Jamie pulled Misia’s carrier down and set it on the seat, and Ciel pulled down her covered birdcage. It was huge, and Jamie was about to ask what kind of owl she had when the train lurched into motion. Immediately, Jamie opened the window and stuck as much of her upper body out of it as possible, and Ciel followed suit.

“Bye!” Jamie called, waving both hands to catch her dad’s attention.

Mr. Wood saw her, and waved back.

“I love you!” Jamie yelled over the increasing sound of the train.

“I love you too!”

Jamie kept waving, now only with one hand. The train picked up speed, losing the various younger siblings trying to keep up. Faster and faster. The wheels and engine grew louder and louder. The Hogwarts Expressed turned a corner, and the platform fell from view.

Jamie closed the window and sat down facing Ciel Damanis.

Both girls were silent for a time. For something to do, Jamie pulled off her glasses and polished them with the edge of her skirt.

“Are you able to see without those?” Ciel asked, breaking the silence.

Jamie looked up. “Mostly. You’re pretty clear, but if you were any closer you’d start to get blurry and I’d get a headache.”

“Interesting.”

“Are you excited to go to Hogwarts?” Jamie asked.

Ciel nodded. “Very much so. Mum wanted to send me to Beauxbatons, but dad wanted me to go here, and I love France, but I don’t speak French as well as mum thinks I do.” She laughed, and Jamie laughed with her.

“What’s Beauxbatons?”

“French magic school. Much bigger than Hogwarts, which is another reason I prefer Hogwarts. Smaller student to teacher ratio.”

“Oh.”

“You’re muggleborn, aren’t you?” Ciel asked, looking almost as if she were learning about a new animal for the first time.

“I suppose I am, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“My mother was a witch,” Jamie explained. “But she was killed in the war, and my dad raised me. He’s a muggle, and he didn’t know how to explain magic to me.”

“My parents ran intelligence during the war,” Ciel said, the “new animal” look fading into normal curiousness. “They spied on ministry workers.”

A knock on the compartment door staved off Jamie’s next question. The door slid open, and Jamie immediately recognized William’s round, cheerful face.

“Can we sit here? There’s not much room, and you’re the only other person I know here,” said William, side stepping to reveal a blonde girl who was probably a few inches taller than Jamie.

“No problem,” Jamie said, patting the seat next to her, then she quickly turned to Ciel. “Alright with you?”

Ciel nodded and stood up. They helped William and the new girl lift their trunks onto the storage racks with minor difficulty, and only one stubbed finger on Jamie’s part. She shook the offending hand vigorously as the four of them settled down.

“What kind of owl you got?” William asked, pointing at Ciel’s birdcage.

“Great horned,” Ciel replied.

“What’s your name?” Jamie asked the blonde girl, who’d perched herself tensely next to Ciel.

“Valerie,” she said, her voice hushed.

She was pressed as far away from the three of them as it was possible to get in the small compartment.

“We don’t bite,” Jamie said.

“We really don’t,” Ciel seconded.

“If I do its on accident, I promise,” William said, now sticking his finger into Misia’s carrier to scratch her ears.

Valerie shrunk in on herself even more. “You might after we’re sorted.”

“Well that’s ridiculous,” Jamie said, rolling her eyes. Privately, she made a note to ask what sorting was.

Ciel, contrary to Jamie’s reaction, looked understanding.

“Your parents… they’re in Azkaban aren’t they?”

Ciel nodded.

William, seeing Jamie’s expression, whispered, “The wizard prison.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jamie breathed.

“They were Death Eaters,” Valerie said, pulling at her skirt.

“Well you’re not,” said William.

Jamie had no idea what a Death Eater was, but she pointed at William to back him up.

“You’re not your parents, and anyone who thinks you are are dumb,” Ciel said, nodding finally.

Valerie giggled slightly, and smiled a bit. All at once the atmosphere in the compartment got lighter.

While they had been talking the scenery outside had changed. The train was now passing sunny hills, dotted with sheep and cows. At about half past noon, a lady came by with a trolley full of sweets and pastries Jamie had never even seen. All four drunk with independence, pooled some of their gold and bought far more of everything than they really should have. Jamie didn’t know where to begin. Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans? Cauldron Cakes? Chocolate Frogs? Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum? Exploding Bonbons? Fizzing Whizzbees? Fudgeflies? Peppermint Toads? Pumpkin Pasties? Sugared Butterfly Wings? Jamie had never had so many options in her life. She settled, eventually, on beginning with a Cauldron Cake.

“So,” Jamie began after a couple moments of comfortable silence once she’d finished eating her cake. “What’s sorting?”

Ciel began to explain, and William jumped in with what he knew, or had been told by his siblings, and Valerie mostly nodded along with Ciel’s descriptions. What Jamie gathered from the three of them was that they’d have a hat put on their heads, and then would be told which house was best for them.

“It’s going to put me in Slytherin, I know it,” Valerie said bitterly.

“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” asked Jamie, who, up until now, had gotten the impression that all the houses were pretty great.

“It’s the evil house, or that’s what everyone says anyways. It’s got a reputation for turning out dark witches and wizards, like Tom Riddle, and most of the Death Eaters,” Valerie said bitterly, before adding, almost as an after thought, “my parents included.”

“Well that’s dumb,” Jamie said firmly.

“I mean, she’s right,” Ciel said, “Slytherin does hold the track record for turning out the most dark witches and wizards, _but_ they’ve also had some of the best, if we’re being fair.”

“Yeah, is’not fair, jus’cause the wors’ones have been fr’m there recen’ly.” William’s words were almost unintelligible through his mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty.

Ciel looked positively disgusted. “Never talk with your mouthful around me ever again.”

“S’rry.”

Ciel threw a chocolate frog at him. The package bounced off of him and into Jamie’s lap.

“Are they real frogs?” Jamie asked, picking the package up and turning it over in her hands. It felt like a stupid question, but you never knew.

“Nah, just got a neat charm on them,” William said. “They’ve got collectable cards in the box too.”

Jamie carefully opened the box, and almost dropped it as the chocolate frog made a break for freedom towards the opening door.

“Watch it,” Max said, catching the frog in both hands.

“Max!” William said, grinning at his older sister.

Max slid the door the rest of the way open, revealing another girl who was also wearing a red and gold tie.

“Just wanted to check you were doing okay,” Max said. She handed the frog back to Jamie. “Both of you. Made new friends?”

Jamie and William nodded. Max turned to the other two.

“I’m Max, William’s sister, this is Julie. We’re about seven compartments up if you need anything, or decide you did get too many snacks after all. Also, side note, some of the other first years have been arguing, so if Demetrius comes in acting high and mightily concerned, you’ll know why.” Max directed the last part at William, who rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be good,” Valerie said.

“No, no, just don’t be mischievous loudly. That’s how Filche doesn’t have proof I transfigured everything in his office into toilets.”

Max left with Julie stifling sniggers in tow.

“I’ve got a lot to live up to,” William said, and Jamie wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“What card did you get?” Valerie asked.

“Is it Merwyn the Malicious?” William asked, once more interested in sweets. “I’d trade you about ten cards for him.”

“Minerva McGonagall,” Jamie read before taking a bite of her chocolate frog.

“Darn it, I’ve already got a bunch of her.” William turned his attention to the rest of the chocolate frogs.

Jamie let out a small noise of surprise when the picture of the severe looking woman with rectangular spectacles pressed her fingertips together and peered at her over them.

“The picture moved!”

“They do that,” Valerie said, chewing on a liquorish wand.

Ciel visibly winced.

Jamie flipped the card over, and read the back.

 

MINERVA MCGONAGALL

CURRENTLY HEADMISTRESS OF HOGWARTS

One of the greatest witches of modern times, McGonagall is best known for her heroism at The Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. McGonagall was the general of the battle, and is reported to have led an army of school desks in successfully trampling no less than fifty Death Eaters. Minerva McGonagall is also one of only seven registered animagi in the 20th century, and is the only known witch capable of producing a Patronus Charm nonverbally. Professor McGonagall’s hobbies include needlework and correcting articles in Transfiguration Today.

 

The four of them spent a good portion of time eating chocolate frogs and reading the backs out loud in increasingly silly voices. Eventually Jamie tried a Bertie Bott’s bean, which turned out to be lime flavoured. She ate several more, until Valerie dared her to eat one that was earwax flavoured. That put her off from eating anymore for a little while. But, luckily, there were plenty of other sweets. She quite liked peppermint toads, and ate an entire package herself.

It was starting to get darker, and they were now passing through thick woodland. The lights on the train went on. Every now and then people could be heard running up and down the train. Jamie was starting to grow restless. She felt that others were as well. Ciel had pulled out her wand and was attempting to levitate the empty wrappers with varying degrees of success, and Valerie and William were arguing about Quidditch.

“C’mon, admit it, Puddlemere United is better,” William was saying.

“But then we’d both be wrong,” Valerie said.

Ciel and Jamie snorted.

“C’mon guys,” William said to them. “Back me up here!”

“I’m a Harpies girl,” Ciel said. “I have a poster of Ginny Potter in my trunk.”

“I don’t even know what Quidditch is,” Jamie said.

Three pairs of astonished eyes turned on her.

The next hour was filled with attempts to explain Quidditch, but it was mostly filled with stories of famous games, won and lost, and a blow-by-blow account (that Jamie secretly didn’t believe) of how William once crashed into a muggle hang gliding.  

By the time Jamie had a decent grasp – and by decent, she knew that there were seven players, and three types of balls, and people got injured almost as often as in rugby – a voice echoed through the train.

“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Jamie, Ciel, William, and Valerie paused their conversation to pull out their robes from their trunks and put them on.

“Do we really need to leave our animals?” Jamie asked, petting Misia through the carrier. Misia had been pitching mini-fits in between naps the whole journey.

“I think so,” Ciel said.

The train slowed to a grind halt. The four friends made their way out the compartment to get packed between other students who were thinking the same thing. Eventually, with accidental elbowing all around, they made it out onto the dark platform. It was cold, and Jamie’s teeth chattered and she grabbed onto Valerie’s hands to keep them both warm. A lamp bobbed into view, and Jamie heard a voice she knew.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, this way! Alright, Jamie?”

Hagrid’s face was warm and very hairy in the light, and he had a beaming grin on his face.

“Firs’ years, this way! Anymore firs’ years? Follow me, watch your step, it’s a might slippery.”

The group of first years followed Hagrid as close as they could, stumbling along the narrow path. She couldn’t see, but she felt like they were surrounded by trees. Nobody spoke, but Ciel grasped her free hand, and William gave a muffled grunt when he tripped on an exposed root.

“You’ll be seein’ Hogwarts in a moment, just here,” Hagrid called from the front.

There was a collective gasp from the assembled first years. The narrow path had opened onto a great, shining black lake, and beyond it, perched on a cliff, was a castle, it many windows glowing with warm, welcoming light, it’s many towers appearing to brush the starry sky. Jamie felt a deep, warm sensation spread inside her chest, and grinned broadly.

“Only four to a boat!” Hagrid said, gesturing to a fleet of boats floating in the shallows. Jamie, Ciel, William, and Valerie quickly got in the boat closest to them.

“All in? Right, FORWARD!” At Hagrid’s command, the fleet was off, gliding across the lake of their own accord.

Hogwarts Castle loomed larger and large, smaller towers and turrets making themselves apparent. Ciel was whispering something about the history of it to William, but Jamie was content to just drink the view in.

“Watch yer heads,” Hagrid called as the first of the boats reached the cliff. Everyone ducked, and the little boats traveled down a dark tunnel that was hidden behind a curtain of ivy. Jamie was sure that they were underneath the castle now, though she couldn’t see a thing. Valerie was cutting off the circulation in her fingers.

The boats reached some kind of underground dock, or harbor, and everyone clambered ashore. Then, they followed Hagrid up a passageway, and after a minute or so, they were standing on the moonlit grass outside of the castle.

They followed Hagrid up a flight of stone steps and crowded around a huge oak door.

“This everyone?”

There was mumbles of confirmation.

Hagrid knocked three times on the castle door.

 

 


	5. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and her new friends are sorted.

The castle door opened. Standing before them now was a man who wouldn’t have come up to even Jamie’s waist. He peered up at them all good-naturedly.

“This all of them?” he asked Hagrid.

“Yup.”

“Right, follow me first years.” The man had a squeaky voice, and it carried easily.

The group followed the tiny man into a vast entrance hall with a great marble staircase leading upwards. Jamie expected them to go up it, but they didn’t. Instead, the man led them to the left, across the hall, and into an antechamber. When all the first years were inside, the man stood on a crate and spoke.

“Good evening students! My name is Professor Flitwick, deputy headmaster of Hogwarts. In a few moments you will be sorted in to your houses – would you kindly stop cracking your knuckles? Thank you very much – what was I saying? Yes. While at Hogwarts, your house will be your family, and your actions will win or lose you house points through out term. At the end of year feast the house with the most points will earn the House Cup!” Professor Flitwick nearly toppled over. “I will return in a moment.”

When Flitwick left, the room was filled with murmuring. Jamie caught bits of it. “Heard Gryffindor is the best,” “Isn’t Ravenclaw’s ghost Rowena’s daughter?” “I hear they’ve started kicking Slytherins out.”

The room fell silent. The boy who’d said it smirked, and Jamie recognized as they boy she’d met at Madam Malkin’s. With the room’s full attention now on him, he spoke up. “What? It’s simply common sense. If a house produces that many Dark Wizards, anyone who’s sorted there shouldn’t be allowed to learn magic.”

Valerie and a few others went pale, and one kid rolled up their sleeves, but Jamie beat them to it.

“You watch your mouth!” she said, striding up to Leon Walker and grabbing two fistfuls of the front of his robes.

“You watch your hands!”

“Not until you take it back.”

Before either of them could do anything rash, Flitwick returned.

“Follow me,” he said.

The group of first years trailed after him, whispering amongst one another. Jamie clenched her fists, trying to ease her anger out so she could focus on what was happening. They were led to a double door to the right of the marble staircase, surrounded by moving portraits, all of whom were pointing at the first years and speaking to each other. The doors opened, and Jamie, along with all the others, gasped.

They were in the great hall, a long room filled with four tables, and a fifth perpendicular at its head. Hundreds of candles floated above them, illuminating the room, and above that… For a moment Jamie thought the room was open to the sky, but Ciel nudged her and whispered, “It only looks like the sky. It’s a powerful charm.” Students sat at all four tables, along with, no… yes, _ghosts_ also sat among the living. Jamie did her best not to stare.

They were led between the two center tables up to the head table, where the teachers sat. At the center, Professor McGonagall sat, looking at the incoming first years with pointed interest. When they had climbed up the step to stand on the raised floor beneath it, Jamie noticed the Flitwick had broken off, and was now returning with a three-legged stool and an ancient wizard’s hat. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to the hat. Jamie peered over William’s shoulder and squinted at it. What was everyone waiting for?

A rip near the brim opened and the hat began to sing.

 

_“A thousand years ago or more,_

_Four friendships sought to last,_

_They built a school to teach their craft,_

_But an end was soon to pass._

_T’was not for lack of compromise,_

_Our founders knew their differences,_

_And fought to see it through,_

_But there is variance between preferences and principals._

_Of the noble four,_

_Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin,_

_One left, one grieved, one learned,_

_Another said, “We must fix the mess we’re in.”_

_The remaining three set aside their pride,_

_And rebuilt anew,_

_But even the best intentions,_

_Can sew the seeds of doom._

_Virtues were instilled,_

_In every house that they’d teach,_

_But along with courage, cunning, loyalty, and wit,_

_Without their knowing, faults were passed by each._

_Blinded by their differences,_

_Torn apart by pride,_

_Our houses have been divided since we forgot,_

_We’re all the same inside,_

_And I know I may be droning,_

_You grow tired of my speech,_

_But I must implore you,_

_I beg, I preach,_

_Learn to recognize what lies,_

_Between ignorance and hatred,_

_Find instead love, acceptance,_

_For it is here it should be created!”_

The Great Hall burst into applause. Jamie, stunned that a hat could be so talented, joined in a few moments late. A couple people whistled. As the noise died down, Flitwick unfurled a long piece of parchment and spoke.

“When I call your name, please come forward.” Flitwick turned his attention to the paper and read aloud. “Abberton, Eric.”

A gangly, blonde boy shuffled forward from the back of the line, sat on the stool, and Flitwick placed the hat on his head.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat shouted after a couple of seconds.

The left-middle table, clad in yellow and black, burst into applause. Eric Abberton handed the sorting hat back to Flitwick and ran down to join his new housemates.

“Abbott, Maurine,” also went to Hufflepuff, but, “Anderson, Douglas,” went to Ravenclaw, and the table to the right of Hufflepuff, who’s inner robes and ties were blue and bronze, cheered. “Atkins, Evan,” went to Gryffindor, as did “Bartley, Olive,” and “Bell, Ruby,” a black girl with pretty dreads, went to Hufflepuff.

“Butler, Cordelia,” was the first Slytherin, and though the table at the far right of the room applauded, Jamie noticed a few dirty looks thrown the girl’s way. Valerie was biting her thumbnail, looking a little queasy, and Jamie felt much the same. What if none of the houses wanted her? What if the hat told her, sorry, there’s no more room, back on the train. As much as she loved her father, knowing magic existed, and then being thrown from it wasn’t something Jamie thought she could stand.

“Cain, Valerie,” called Flitwick.

“You got this,” Jamie whispered, and she heard Ciel murmur encouragement as well.

Valerie sat on the stool a full minute before the hat called out, “SLYTHERIN!”

The right hand table exploded again, and this time, Jamie joined in the applause, as did Ciel and William. Valerie looked back at them as she joined the far table, and smiled widely for the first time since she’d entered their compartment that morning.

“Campbell, Angelina,” went to Ravenclaw, as did, “Carrington, Bill.” “Collins, Simon,” joined Valerie at the Slytherin table, and “Conner, Zach,” went to Ravenclaw.

“Damanis, Ciel,” was the next name called, and Jamie briefly squeezed her friend’s hand. The hat barely touched Ciel’s head before shouting, “Ravenclaw!”

Ciel jumped up, obviously pleased, and sat down between Zach Conner and Angelina Campbell.

“Daichi, Ora,” went to Hufflepuff, and, “Davis, Clare,” went to Gryffindor. “Duffey, Orin,” joined Clare at the Gryffindor table, and “Dwyer, Ralph,” join Ora at the Hufflepuff table. “Eade, Opal,” went to Slytherin,” as did, “Fawley, Lena,” and, “Hale, Silas.”

William was starting to look a little green around the gills, and Jamie was beginning to regret all the sweets she ate.

“Hays, Stephen.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Heard, Norah.”

Jamie was starting to take notice of how long the Sorting hat took. Mostly, it only took about a minute, but, as with Ciel, sometimes it only needed a couple of seconds. Norah Heard was sitting with the hat over her eyes, for nearly three minutes before the hat cried out, “RAVENCLAW!”

Next was, “Hughes, Edmund!”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Keating, Lucy.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“King, William.”

William was shaking. Jamie could see Max watching from the Gryffindor table on the far left, and she assumed his two older brothers were watching too.

“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat exclaimed after about a minute.

“Lynch, Dominic,” and “Macmillan, Izetta,” also went to Gryffindor. “McDonaugh, Donna,” went to Hufflepuff, but her twin, “McDonaugh, Patricia,” went to Slytherin, and “McPherson, Eugene,” joined her.

Jamie really wished, at that moment, that her last name didn’t start with “W,” that it started with an earlier letter so she could be sitting down with her friends. _‘But you can’t be with all of them,’_ a small voice reminded her. Her heart sank. She wouldn’t be in the same house as all of her new friends, but they would still see each other, especially on weekends. That thought cheered her up a bit.

“Mills, Henry.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Parkinson, Zeb.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Paterson, Cecil.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Reyes, Sophia.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Selwyn, Nita.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

There were only five first years left including herself. _‘Don’t let me be last, please don’t let me be last…’_

“Sullivan, Elizabeth.” A tiny blonde girl ran up to the stool.

“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat called immediately.

There was a brief kerfuffle, as Elizabeth Sullivan ran off with the hat still on her head, and she had to run back before sitting next to Izetta Macmillan.

“Walker, Leon.”

Leon Walker elbowed Jamie on his way past, and the hat yelled, “RAVENCLAW!” before it even touched his head. Jamie saw Ciel whisper something to the older Ravenclaws around her, and when Leon sat down, everyone scooted over so as not to be near him.

“Walsh, Damon.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Only two left.

“Wheeler, Louis.”

Just Jamie.

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Wood, Jamie.”

The floor seeming to sway beneath her, Jamie made her way to the stool. The last thing she saw before the hat was placed on her head was the four house tables, and each of her friends smiling up at her – then, all she saw was darkness as the hat fell over her eyes.

For what felt like an eternity, the hat was silent. Was it broken? Had she broken it? Since no one had taken it off and started yelling at her, she figured it was just thinking.

“Interesting… there’s ambition here, and courage… intelligence, yes, but that’s not what defines you…” said a soft voice in Jamie’s ear.

 _‘I don’t care. Just put me somewhere, anywhere,”_ Jamie thought.

“That’s not how sorting works. I see your mind, you could achieve great things – but that’s not what you desire?”

It was reading her mind, Jamie realized, but what else should she have expected.

“The houses don’t matter, in the end, do they?” Jamie whispered to the hat.

The hat was silent.

“They don’t,” she insisted, after that hat still failed to respond. “Because they’re all good. You can succeed no matter what, it’s just how you decide to work for it.”

Again, the hat was silent, and then…

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

These words were shouted to the entire hall. Relieved, Jamie pulled the hat off and handed it to Flitwick. The Hufflepuff table was giving her a standing ovation, and the other three tables were clapping politely as well. Jamie sat next to a first year with frizzy brown hair, who she was reasonably sure was Maurine Abbott. Once she’d sat down, and confirmed that yes it was Maurine next to her, and Ruby on the other side, Jamie noticed that the inside of her robe had turned yellow, and her tie was now stripped yellow and black; thin yellow stripes ran along the bottom of her cardigan, and when her robe sleeve pulled back, the edges of her cardigan sleeves. _‘I love magic,’_ Jamie thought. Her stomach rumbled, bringing her attention to the empty plates on the table.

Three claps brought silence to the hall, and turned everyone’s attention to the high table.

Professor McGonagall was standing, and Flitwick was carrying the stool out of the way. McGonagall was hard for Jamie to read, but, even at a distance, the warm, tight-lipped smile was unmistakable.

“Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin, it is traditional for me to give a small speech, but I believe it can wait until after we’ve eaten.”

She sat down, and the students applauded, a few whooped. Jamie joined in late.

“That’s it?” Jamie whispered to Ruby Bell.

“For now, seems anyway.”

“Pumpkin Juice?” asked an older girl sitting across fro Jamie.

Without her noticing, the table had filled with food and drink. Roast chicken, heaps of potatoes – boiled, mashed, and roasted – bowls of salad, steak, roast beef, stacks of buttered rolls, Yorkshire pudding, peas and carrots, and other vegetables Jamie wasn’t particularly invested in identifying; Golden pitchers were filled with various juices, water, and milk. There was so much, Jamie couldn’t keep track of it all. Jamie accepted the girl’s offer, and offered her goblet.

As Jamie piled her plate up with steak, potatoes, and sautéed broccoli and asparagus, she listened to the conversations around her. Maurine was talking to Henry Mills about what it was like growing up with muggle parents, and Ruby was rolling her eyes. A ghost who was dressed like a monk was floating down the table and introducing himself to the first years.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said the portly, beaming ghost upon reaching Jamie. “I’m the fat friar, Hufflepuff’s ghost. If you ever get lost, just ask for me, I’ll come find you.”

“I’m Jamie,” Jamie said, sticking out her hand, before thinking better of it. The Fat Friar laughed and glided off.

“So, Jamie, what about your parents?” Maurine asked.

“Uh…” Jamie hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation, so hadn’t thought she was included. “My mom was a witch, but she died when I was little. My dad raised me, and he’s a muggle.”

“My mum’s a muggle,” piped up the chubby redhead who was sitting next to Eric.

“You’re Donna, right?” asked Ruby.

“Yeah, but call me Dewey, almost everyone does.”

The conversation stayed on the topic of parenting and their various childhoods for a while. Jamie didn’t contribute much, but listened as Ora talked about the couple summers she spent in Japan visiting family there, and how Eric once saw a giant while backpacking with his aunt and uncle.

Eventually, the steak and kidney pies, roast beef, and all the rest were replaced by ice cream, cakes, gelatin sculptures, peaches in cream, treacle tart, and more. Jamie helped herself to a slice of apple pie as the conversation subsided as everyone did similarly.

Cecil, a tall, tan boy, was talking to the older girl who’d offered Jamie pumpkin juice. Looking at her closely, Jamie saw a yellow pin with a bronze edging and banner with “Prefect,” written on it.

“You’re our prefect?” Jamie asked, when Cecil had stopped talking to take a bite of his cake.

“I am – Dana Penn,” she said, shaking Jamie’s hand from across the table. “Jules and I are this year’s new prefects.” She pointed at a boy her own age who was explaining something in depth to a pretty girl with yellow beads woven into her tiny braids. Next she pointed at an older girl at the far end of the table. “That’s Joe Collins, she’s Headgirl, a seventh year. She’s top of her class too.”

Cecil started asking Dana about classes again, and Jamie turned her attention to the high table. McGonagall sat in the center, talking to Flitwick who sat to her left, and a portly woman on her right. To past the portly woman, a round-faced man was talking to Hagrid and a man with tousled black hair and round glasses who sat between them. On the other side of Flitwick was an older man who was laughing heartily, and beside him was a witch with glasses that magnified her eyes to the point of ridiculousness. That woman was talking to another witch who looked younger, but older than the two men talking to Hagrid. This woman caught Jamie’s eye briefly and waved before resuming her conversation with the other professor.

“Who are all the professors?” Jamie asked Ruby in a whisper.

Ruby shrugged and turned to Dana.

“Hey DP, Jamie wants to know the professors.”

Dana swallowed whatever she’d been chewing. “Well, you know McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid I’m sure. The one next to McGonagall is Professor Sprout, she’s our head of house and the Herbology teacher, and then next to her is Professor Longbottom, head of Gryffindor house, he also teaches Herbology, and next to him is – ” she squinted. “Harry, erm, Professor Potter if I’m not mistaken. He wasn’t a teacher last year. Oh, and on the other side of Hagrid is Madam Pomfrey. Beside Flitwick is Professor Slughorn, the potions master, and then Trelawney the Divination teacher. Talking with her is Professor Lupa. Then there’s Professor Sinestra, professor Vector, Madam Hooch, and there’s also Professor Binns, but you won’t meet him until you have him for class – he’s a ghost.”

“When do we get our class schedules?” Ralph Dwyer asked.

All the first years had gradually been drawn into Dana’s monologue, and if they hadn’t been sitting close, they were now.

“Tomorrow, and then you’ll be given a tour of the castle and grounds. Lessons won’t start until Monday, so after the tour tomorrow you’ll have the rest of the day and the weekend to explore, get to know each other, and get some reading done before your classes.”

It was soon after Dana had explained this to them that McGonagall clapped again and silence once more dominated the Great Hall.

“Now that you all have eaten enough to pay attention,” she said, her voice easily carrying. There were some giggles from around the room. “I have some beginning of term notices and reminders.

“As always, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds without a teacher, or a prefect with a teacher’s permission, and as of the incident last year – ” McGonagall looked pointedly at the Gryffindor table as she said this. “ – there is to be no swimming in the Black Lake, and on no occasion are you to feed the giant squid. In addition, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that all products purchased from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, or affiliated companies, have been banned, _no_ exceptions.” Here, McGonagall winked.

“We also have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry Potter – ” The bespectacled man waved. “I hope you will treat him with _due respect,_ as you should with all professors.”

Jamie had to resist the urge to answer, “yes professor,” verbally.

“Now that we have gotten that out of the way, it is traditional to sing the school song, if you would please join in – do try and keep tempo.” Professor McGonagall lifted her wand and conjured a long golden ribbon that twisted in the air to form words. The entire congregation of students got to their feet and broke into song:

 

_“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they’re bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we’ve forgot,_

_Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot.”_

The song ended with applause and laughter, and McGonagall shaking her head fondly.

“Well, that’s done with. Off to bed, all of you.”

Jamie and the rest of the Hufflepuff first years followed Dana and Jules from the hall. Once in the entrance hall, Jamie briefly saw William and Ciel heading up the grand marble staircase, following the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw prefects respectively. She caught William’s eye, and they shared a wave. She didn’t spot Valerie in the crowd of Slytherin first years who disappeared the staircase to the right of the marble one.

The Hufflepuffs descended the right hand staircase, and Dana kept a running commentary about Helga Hufflepuff’s reasons for choosing the kitchen level for her students’ common room and dormitories, but Jamie was too tired to listen attentively.

Past a giant still life, Dana stopped at a stack of wooden barrels that was situated in a nook.

“Now, pay attention,” she said.

Everyone stood up a little straighter, and Jamie blinked rapidly to stop her eyelids from drooping.

“If you tap the wrong lid you will be doused in vinegar, and it won’t be pleasant for anyone.”

As they watched, Dana tapped on the barrel in the row second to the bottom, directly in the middle five times. It sounded a bit like “Hel-ga, Huf-fle-puff.” The lid swung open, revealing a passageway almost large enough for Hagrid to squeeze through.

The ten first years followed Dana in single file. The opening became a gently sloping hallway that ended in a circular wooden door, which Dana opened to allow the first years through first.

Jamie felt a grin spread across her face. The room was circular, the middle filled with faded, overstuffed, yellow and black striped couches, all facing the fireplace opposite the door they’d come in from. There was a large round alcove on either side of the main part of the common room, and Jamie could see a few mahogany desks stacked with books against the walls. On one side a black and yellow tapestry depicted a badger that was turning in circles around itself in excitement. On the other, a portrait a round faced, middle-aged woman raised a double handled cup towards the first years. Filling the room was maybe 60 other students, some still in their uniforms and robes, some in pajamas, all smiling and clapping.

“Welcome to Hufflepuff!” said the portrait on the wall.

“Is that _Helga_ Hufflepuff?” one of the first years, probably Henry, asked.

“I am!” Helga Hufflepuff said, the portrait obviously holding back a chuckle.

“Now, you’re probably all very tired,” Dana said, and Jules nodded. “Girls, if you’ll follow me to the left, boys, follow Jules.”

Jamie and the rest of the first year girls followed Dana to the door on the left side of the room, by the badger tapestry. On the other side of the door was a narrow spiral staircase, one half going up, and the other down. Dana led them up to the third landing, where there was a sign on the door that said, “First Years.” Dana wished them goodnight, let them know that the bathrooms were the floor below the common room, and continued on. Through the door was another round room. Inside were five, four-poster beds, each covered in a patchwork quilt. At the foot of each was a trunk, and either an empty owl cage or cat carrier. Jamie recognized her own trunk, and found Misia sleeping on her pillow. Someone had set out food and water for the cats in the dorm, and Jamie made a mental note to ask who so she could say thanks.

 _‘I should have brought a poster or something,’_ Jamie thought as she slipped her pajama shirt on. Maurine was tacking a Holy Head Harpies poster to the wall above her bed, and Donna was carefully unwrapping a family photo from a spare shirt. Ruby was looking worriedly out a window while rubbing something nice smelling into her short dreadlocks.

“What’s up?” Jamie asked, picking up Misia and joining the taller girl at the window.

“Just worried about Sankara,” she mumbled.

“Sankara?”

“My Akun Owl.”

“He’s probably in the Owlery.”

“Owlery?”

“Hagrid told me that’s where the school owls are.”

“Think we’ll go there tomorrow?”

“If we don’t we can find it together,” Jamie said.

Ruby looked away from the window to smile at Jamie.

It wasn’t long after that that all five first years were in their respective bed, and the lights had been extinguished.

Even though she was exhausted, Jamie lay awake, absently petting Misia who was enviably asleep. She thought about Ciel, William, and Valerie, all elsewhere in the castle. It would have been nice, she supposed, to have all been in the same house. _‘It’s not like we won’t see each other,’_ she supposed. _‘We’ll have class, and meals.’_ As she began to drift off, she wondered if you were allowed to visit the other tables at meals.


End file.
